


Last Night's Spices

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>A random collection of things insignificant in themselves</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night's Spices

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Chosen. Title and summary adapted from Martine Bellen's _Cucina_.

Three and a half years, and Dawn calls her from Cambridge while she's tracking a werewolf in Paris.

"I'm sick of this weather," Dawn proclaims. "Let's go back home for Thanksgiving."

Buffy stops, leans against a tree. "I'm kind of busy right now, Dawn."

"Aren't you in Paris?" Dawn asks.

"Yes," Buffy replies. "For a _werewolf_."

Dawn giggles. "You're so B-movie."

"Shut up," she says, "I'll call you later."

*

 

Of course, home is a giant crater in the ground, and neither of them wants to deal with the weirdness that would be facing Los Angeles and stepmother number two.

Instead, they end up in Cape Cod, bunking with a houseful of new Slayers and two very frazzled Watchers.

The weather here, Dawn points out repeatedly, also sucks.

"At least we get turkey," Buffy retorts.

"And pie?" Dawn wonders.

Buffy nods. "I'll bake it myself."

*

 

Four hours later, plus two eviscerated pumpkins and one cursed recipe book, Buffy begins to regret her promise.

Dawn's out shopping with Marjorie, a Slayer from Portland. Buffy calls her cell.

Dawn answers after the third ring. "I hate you," Buffy declares.

"Just use the stupid filling, Buffy," Dawn replies. "God."

Buffy pushes the _end_ button with as much vehemence as possible.

She doesn't use the canned pumpkin filling, but she does use pre-made pie crusts.

*

 

The pies turn out decently, and Buffy beams at the compliments given to her. The first pie disappears quickly, and by the time dinner is over, only a slice and a half from the second pie is left.

Filled with domestic pride, Buffy foolishly volunteers to clean up after dinner, and thus spends an hour and a half scrubbing the pots and pans to shining.

It's close to midnight when Dawn appears, bearing the leftover pie, a quart of vanilla ice cream, and two spoons.

Buffy flops into a chair. "Where were you an hour ago?"

"Watching TV," Dawn says, rolling her eyes.

They dig into the leftover dessert, and the quiet clink of metal against china fills the room.

Buffy's savoring a spoonful of autumn-flavored ice cream when Dawn clears her throat.

"Thanks," Dawn murmurs. "For doing this. I know you could have been...elsewhere."

Buffy sets her spoon down, covers Dawn's hand with her own.

"I'd rather be here than anywhere else," she says. Then, she takes another bite of pie.

Dawn smiles. "It's good, you know. The pie. I'm impressed."

"It's okay." Buffy shrugs. "Mom's was better."

Dawn nods. "I know."

When they finish eating, they wash the rest of the dishes together.


End file.
